From Trèves to Trittenheim the scenery of our river, although very pleasing, has not yet attained to its full beauty; the Moselle, woman as she has become, [111]is still scarcely matured in beauty; many charms are hers already, but until approaching Neumagen her life does not reach the fulness of its summer glory. Then, indeed, the full enchantment of her beauty breaks upon us, as, often in life, we have been in the habit of seeing a lovely girl pass from childhood into the graces of early womanhood, we admire and love; but at some future day we suddenly perceive that the lovely girl has become a glorious woman, replete with every grace. The change seems to take place in a day, even in an hour: some incident, trifling perchance in itself, has awoke the spirit, and the lately shy and timid girl has become a woman in spirit as in name; losing none of the happy loveliness of her earlier years, she has acquired a dignity and nameless, indefinable grace, which completes her beauty and robs us of our hearts.

Such has our Moselle become when she winds among the mountains past Neumagen and Piesport.

The promontory at the back of Neumagen is divided into two parts by the little river Drohn. It is supposed by many that it was on the bank of this little stream that the celebrated Palace of the Thirty Towers stood. This palace, built by the Archbishop Nicetius of Trèves, is supposed to have been most beautiful, and formed entirely of marble, with pleasure-grounds sloping to the stream and river. The description given of these gardens by the poet, Venantius Fortunatus, reads more like an Eastern account of those gardens of Paradise sometimes for [112]a moment unveiled to the wanderer in the Arabian desert. Bishofstein (lower down the stream) also claims the honour of being on the site of the Palace of the Thirty Towers, but it does not in any way answer the description. Whether the banks of the Drohn were the site of this marble palace or not, the beauty of the situation certainly gives it a claim to have been so, and the Archbishops did possess a country-house near Neumagen.

A few miles below Trèves we pass Pfalzel, which lies on the left bank; this little town is interesting, as it is said to be the site of the beautiful legend of Genoveva, handed down to us in so many different versions.
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LEGEND OF GENOVEVA.

The Pfalz-graf Siegfried was married to a lovely and virtuous lady, named Genoveva, and they lived together in great happiness and content, until a wicked courtier, named Golo, whose attentions the lady had repulsed, plotted how he might ruin her in her lord’s esteem.

To this end he poisoned the Pfalz-graf’s mind against his virtuous wife, and so, deeming her guilty of crimes she never even imagined, her lord drove Genoveva from his castle, that so she might be slain of wild beasts or die of hunger.

Genoveva, as she passed out from the castle gates, threw her wedding-ring into the water, that so the [113]crime of her lord might be lessened, as he was thus released from the marriage-tie.

Time passed on, and Siegfried, being on a hunting excursion, wished for food and rest; he therefore ordered a tent to be pitched on the banks of a stream. No sooner was this done than two fishermen arrived with a great fish, which they presented to the Pfalz-graf; the fish being opened, a ring was found, which the Pfalz-graf no sooner saw than he perceived it was that of his dead wife.

Returning home he was much troubled at this circumstance, and falling asleep he dreamt that he saw a dragon persecuting Genoveva, who still was dearer to him than all the world beside. He related this dream to Golo, who pacified him for a time: but again he dreamt, and in his dream he hunted a pure white hind, following, and persecuting it remorselessly; awaking, he felt that the hind was Genoveva, and he was indeed a cruel huntsman, who had chased a spotless deer to death.

He ordered everything to be prepared for the chase,—why, he knew not, but felt the dream must be followed out; Golo was seized with agony when the Pfalz-graf set forth, and secretly followed his master’s steps.

A spotless hind was found, and the Pfalz-graf eagerly followed on her track, wounding her with an arrow; on sped the hind, until, with a last bound, it forced its way through the bushes, and fell bleeding and exhausted at Genoveva’s feet. [114]

Siegfried followed close, and threw himself on his knees before his injured wife, who had been wonderfully preserved from death, and, together with the child to which she had given birth, nourished by the poor deer, which now was dying of her wounds.

Pointing to her babe, Genoveva showed that in every feature it was the counterpart of her lord: thus was Golo’s treachery made manifest, and his head, being struck from off the body, was exposed upon the castle walls.

Another legend of Pfalzel tells of a wicked nun, who, by the devil’s aid, worked a magic garment and presented it to the Archbishop; immediately on putting it on horrible desires seized on him, and he felt as if the fiend were dragging him to perdition. Throwing it off, others tried it, and on all it had the same effect; being therefore convinced of the iniquity of the worker, the Archbishop turned the nun out of the convent, but finding that her sister nuns were as bad as she, he was compelled to treat them all in a similar manner: the garment, however, still exists, and is worn by many.

Inland of Pfalzel is Rammstein, where a certain Count of Vianden (like Adalbert of St. Cross) came to an untimely end by an overfondness for wine. He had once taken the Bishop prisoner and put him into fetters; this the latter never forgot or forgave, so, knowing the Count’s fondness for wine, he, one very sultry day, sent a string of carts filled with [115]barrels past the walls of the Count’s strong castle; down swooped the Count’s followers, like beasts of prey as they were, and carried off the convoy; then they all set to work drinking, in the true German fashion.

While thus carousing, the armed followers of the Bishop suddenly surprised them, and the castle was taken and burnt; the Bishop shouted to the Count, who in his turn was put in fetters, “Behold the consequence of raising thy hand against the Lord’s anointed!”

Near Pfalzel several brooks run into the Moselle; one on the same bank, named the Kill, passes Rammstein, and flowing through a charming valley, waters a large strip of most productive garden-ground, which extends from the Moselle to some distance inland.

These lateral valleys are very frequent on our river. We can scarcely wander along her banks for a quarter of a mile but a recess in the neighbouring hills is seen, through which a little stream comes dancing. Penetrating into the gorge we find busy little mills at work, and are led into scenery which at every turn seems to increase in beauty. We shall hereafter have to describe some of these lateral valleys, so need not now dwell on their delights.

On the opposite shore, which is watered by another stream, is Grünhaus, and above it Grüneberg. From these vineyards come the most highly-prized wines of the Moselle, though many think the wines of Zeltingen more delicate in flavour. [116]

Past little islands, and through rich fields filled with garden produce, we glide on, following the serpentine course of our river. The wood-embosomed villages peep at us as we go by, each group of houses has its church rising in the midst: gradually the banks grow steeper, hills swell up inland, and here and there come down to look on the Moselle. These reconnoiterers retire, and having told their chiefs of the approach of the glorious stream, at Trittenheim we find the right bank covered with mountain-giants, come to do homage to the spirit of the waters.

At Trittenheim is one of those flying bridges, almost peculiar to the Moselle. It is thus formed: two strong towers are built, one on each side of the stream; from the summits of these towers, attached to great posts built into the solid wall, stretches a rope, which falls in a curve over the river; a stout cord attached to a swivel, which runs freely along the rope, descends to the surface of the river, and to it is fastened a barge, which propelled by the action of the swift running stream, and guided by the boatman, passes from side to side at his pleasure, carrying heavy loads, with little labour to the ferryman.

Where the breadth of the river admits, these sort of flying bridges are used; in other parts, those with which the reader is probably familiar on the Rhine are in operation; and again, where the stream is sluggish, barges unattached to any rope are poled up stream, and floated across.

Trittenheim was the birth-place of the celebrated [117]Trithemius, famous for his many writings and his learning. He, in common with all learned men of his time (end of fifteenth century), was considered a sorcerer, and the Emperor Maximilian applied to him to raise the spirit of his deceased wife, Mary of Burgundy. This he is said to have done, and the dead Princess reappeared in all the charms of her youthful beauty: but a more probable account of this transaction is given in the following version, taken from the beautiful poem in the Mosel sagen.
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TRITHEMIUS AND THE EMPEROR.

One very dark night a man wrapped in a mantle, so as to conceal his features, entered the cloister at Spanheim, and demanded to see the Abbot.

Trithemius (the Abbot) advanced to meet his visitor, who he immediately recognised as the Emperor Maximilian. The Emperor requested him to raise the shade of his first wife, Mary; upon which Trithemius took him by the hand, and leading him out of doors, pointed to two bright constellations in the form of staves, which were shining in the sky, and addressed him as follows:—

“You see there, my Prince, the two principles of government; by ruling with the one, bad princes beat down their subjects beneath their feet, and cause those little stars, which represent drops of blood and tears, to f............